Tall Buildings and Pill Bottles - A Johnlock Story

Valentine's Day

Sherlock's POV

The few weeks before Valentine's Day passed quickly in a flurry of cases. I still felt quite horrible about what had happened, so I had taken it upon myself to plan the absolutely perfect night. John had asked if I wanted to do anything for Valentine's Day, I'd responded that I was already planning it. Now it was finally here, and John still had no idea of what I had planned.

I'd set an alarm on my phone so that I would wake up before him, and slipped out of bed quietly. Based on his normal wake up schedule, I only had 92 minutes until he woke up, and a lot to do. I first set about getting my presents for him set up, a basket of roses, a large box of chocolates, and his card. I felt kind of stupid with these presents, but both Greg and Molly had insisted that he'd love it. They were my idea, I just didn't feel like it was a good one.

I took the rose petals of a single rose, and began making the trail. It went from our room, from the edge of the bed, out into the sitting area where his presents lay. The trail got thicker as it went, and ended in a pile of the rest of that roses petals. I arranged the rest of the flowers into their positions, and stood. I began making breakfast as fast as I could, crêpes. I'd gotten a special crêpe maker just for this. (AN: Inspired by A Study in Love, and my French class, when we made crêpes for Le Chandeleur.)

I knew that John loved crêpes, he'd just never invested the money in a maker. Once the crêpes were finished cooking, I began filling and rolling them. I brought the chocolate drizzled crêpes into the sitting room, and set them in the middle of all his presents. I checked my watch, two minutes before he would wake up. As quickly as I could, I took out my violin, and tuned it. I'd been composing this for him over the past week, and it was finally done.

Sure enough, two minutes later, I heard a muffled, "What the...?" As he discovered the trail, I chuckled to myself quietly. Equally quiet footsteps padded towards the sitting room, and I began to play.

John's POV

I immediately noticed the missing warmth of Sherlock's body when I awoke. A single rose petal lay in his place instead. "What the..?" I murmured, as I sat up. From a sitting position, I could see the trail of them leading out. I slipped quietly out of bed, a small smile tugging at my lips. I followed them out into the sitting room. The sight that beheld me would be one that I'd never forget.

Roses, dozens of them filled the room, along with a box of chocolates, my favorite brand, mind you. A tray of crêpes sat in the middle of it, steam still rising from them. Sherlock stood off to the side, his violin set under his chin. The second I'd turned the corner, he began playing. The piece was one of his own composing, and began on a very depressing, minor melody.

The key changed to a major one after few measures, taking the piece from intensely sad, to romantic and beautiful. He'd written this for me, I realized as tears prickled at the backs of my eyes. It weaved together a beautiful, breathtakingly romantic story. Sherlock was one of those people who could tell a story through their music. His eyes were closed, and he swayed with the music. By the time he'd finished, I was crying. The last note was high and sweet, drifting off into nothingness.

He opened his ocean eyes, filled with love. He smiled his lovely crooked smile. "Happy Valentine's Day, John." I ran to him, engulfing him a hug. He laughed, "I'm guessing you liked it?" It was my turn to laugh. "Liked it? It was bloody brilliant, and romantic, much like you. Thank you," My voice was muffled by his shoulder, by he heard me, nevertheless. I could feel his smile as his rested his chin on top of my head.

"You're very welcome, my darling. Only the best for you," he pulled back, and grabbed my wrists, pulling me towards the crêpes. "Speaking of, I made crêpes, I know you love them," He smiled happily, handing me one of the plates. We talked about random things while we ate. At one point, Sherlock had managed to get chocolate sauce on his nose, which I kissed off, laughing. It was the happiest I'd seen him in a while, maybe ever.